John Lennon at Tittenhurst Park, London Road, Sunningdale, Ascot,
Berkshire

Tittenhurst Park

This Tittenhurst Park blog is dedicated to John Lennon's home in Sunningdale, near Ascot, Berkshire between 1969 and 1971. The aim is to gather as much material relating to the estate as possible - obviously with the emphasis on the Lennon-era, but also concerning Tittenhurst Park as it was before and after John Lennon's ownership. In addition, there will be posts about and associated with the Beatles, plus any other rubbish I feel like. The blog is purely meant for the entertainment of anyone (assuming there is actually anyone) who, like me, has an unhealthy interest in one particular Georgian mansion. Those with anything interesting to contribute in the way of links, photos, scans, stories etc. please do contact me: tittenhurstlennon@gmail.com(Legal: this blog is strictly non-commercial. All material is the property of the photographer/artist/copyright holder concerned. Any such who wishes a picture etc to be removed should contact me and I will do so. Alternatively, if someone is happy to see their photo on here, but would like a credit/link then let me know and I'll be happy to provide one). Enjoy!

Saturday

AscotIn 1969, John and I went to see three houses, before deciding on Ascot. One estate had a beautiful winding road with huge birch trees on bothsides going all the way up to the house. We liked that one very much, but sadly they declined to sell it to us. The Class thing, you know. Next we saw a mansion which once belonged to a very famous English poet of the olden days. His offspring were living in it at the time we visited. In our generation, all of us read and memorized this poet's work in English classes throughout the world. The mansion was on a rolling hill full of daffodils and had the beauty and the warmth you expected from the poet. There was a certain excitement in the idea of John Lennon taking this poet's mansion as his residence. But John and Isoon realized that the mansion was like a shrine to many people, and we probably would have felt bad even putting a fresh coat of paint on the walls. The last one was a beautiful, old and rambling castle. It was a true Saxon castle. John loved it. I loved the outside look of the castle, witha moat and beautiful flower beds. But it was too scary for me to think of actually living there. The main bedroom had a triple high ceiling and a window way up high, like one would imagine a room would be in the Tower of London. John thought it was great. “It’s like being in a horror film" (That, in John's book, meant exciting)."On a strong windynight, we can hold each other and stay under the covers!" There was afull set of old armour standing like a real warrior in the corridoroutside the bedroom. Then we went to the kitchen downstairs. There were rows of huge, rusty, iron pots each, of which could easily feed 50 people. I'd never seen anything like that before. You could boil a witchin one. I wondered if John was thinking I would cook for him in this kitchen on the cook's day off. For that matter, I wondered if anybody would want to come to cook for us in this kitchen. Peter Shotton, John's old buddy who drove us there kept saying "Yeah, man this is great" - at the same time throwing a concerned look in my direction like saying "I hope you're not gonna say no to this one.” Well, I did. Itook John aside and said, "John it's alright when we're together. but what if you go out one night without me? I'd be too scared to be here alone." John kissed me and said, "Don't be silly. I would never go out without you, you know that. Now, that's a silly thought isn't it? To think I would ever leave you alone!" John meant it when he said he would never leave me alone. But how was I to know that at that point in our relationship that we would always be together like a pair of jeans? I was coming from the 20th century, you know, not from Wuthering Heights. I heard John say quietly to Peter, "Too bad, Yoko doesn't like it.""What a pity" Peter said. In hindsight, I kind of regret that we never lived in that beautiful old castle. I regret that I wasn't a Saxon-warrior woman who could stir those big pots with one arm without tumbling into it. Ascot was just right for us. It was Georgian, thank God, not Saxon. John said, "You like it?" seeing already from my expression of relief that it was a go. “Yes," I nodded.” Okay we'll take it" "But...""What, what?" "There's no water on the land." "Oh, that. We'll build alake then. It's easy." John and I thought we would make Ascot our home and live there for many, many years to come. Otherwise, why did we plunka huge lake in the garden and plant feeble looking plum and cherry saplings around the lake which promised to become trees in twenty years time?